When I got home, Peter was awake and sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when he heard me come in.
“How was your coffee date with your mom?” he asked, setting his phone down, “Jacob?”
“You— You know about the swap?” I stuttered.
“You’ve done such a good job as Marion; I really thought you were her. Between the sex, the blowjob you gave me…”
I was stunned.
“Marion told me everything. The real Marion.”
“Oh.”
“You know, it’s pretty fucked up that I’ve been intimate with a twelve-year-old boy.”
I stared at Peter, my mind racing as his words settled in. I felt the color drain from my cheeks. I had thought I had gotten away with it.
“Who else knows?”
“No one else. Just the three of us.”
I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper, “I thought— I was just trying to do what Marion would do…”
Peter stood up, “Jacob, this is serious. You have to understand what went on last night. You were in her body, and you took advantage of a situation that… that shouldn’t have happened.”
“I know. I know… I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“That said,” his stern expression contorted into an awkward smirk, “it was the best sex Marion and I have ever had.”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and I didn’t know how to respond, “Wait, what?”
“Of course, we need to make sure you two switch back soon. We’ll schedule a dinner next weekend or something, and get it done,” Peter stepped towards me, “but, until then… If you’re going to be in Marion’s body for a little while longer, we might as well make the most of it. Don’t you think?”
I could feel his breath on me, as he closed the distance between us, a playful smirk still on his lips. My heart hammered in my chest, caught between a whirlwind of confusion and unexpected excitement.
“You want me to… what? Keep pretending to be your wife?” I stammered, backing away slightly.
Peter chuckled softly, his eyes glimmering with mischief, “Why not? You’ve already slipped into her life so seamlessly.”
"But I’m not her," I protested weakly, "I'm Jacob. I'm just a kid."
Peter shrugged, “But what if you’re not just Jacob right now? For all intents and purposes, in this moment, you are Marion. You have her body, her life. You’ve already played the part so well. You’ve experienced things as Marion that most women dream of—intimacy, affection, love —and honestly? It felt real to me. I for one couldn’t tell the difference."
“It …felt real?”
“Jacob, I’m giving you permission to indulge in being Marion. To be my wife until you two swap back.”
“What do you mean, indulge?” I asked, my voice wavering as I tried to process the suggestion.
“I mean this,” he leaned in and kissed me tenderly.
Peter pulled back slightly, searching my eyes for an answer.
Then I leaned in and kissed him back.
“See?” Peter whispered against my mouth, his breath warm and inviting, “You’re starting to get it.”
“But this is wrong,” I stammered, “I’m not really Marion.”
“Right now, you are,” he replied softly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat, “At least, I feel that you are.”
Peter leaned in for another kiss, his soft lips pressed against mine. My mind raced with conflicting thoughts and emotions, but my body seemed to respond without hesitation.
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